


The Agony of Victory

by CatherineS



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1995-01-01
Updated: 1995-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineS/pseuds/CatherineS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Avon/Blake story is probably season two. Travis has tortured Blake and Blake believes it is Avon who has done it. When Blake comes back on Liberator, Avon must now work to allay Blake's fears of him.  Previously Published in the fanzine	Southern Comfort 8.5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Agony of Victory

Avon shifted uncomfortably, silently damning Blake and himself for fools. The mission had seemed so simple: teleport down, set the charges and leave. So simple that neither of them had suspected a trap. Only when they bad lost contact with the Liberator had Avon realized that the building was now shielded, that teleporting out was impossible. The subsequent appearance of Travis and Servalan had been no surprise at all.

Servalan hadn't stayed long, but she had left Travis in no doubt that she required results quickly. Travis's initial brutal assault had owed more to a desire to hurt and humiliate Blake than a quest for knowledge. He hadn't even bothered asking questions to begin with. Receiving a lack of instant answers to his demands as to how the teleport functioned, Travis had seemed unconcerned. In fact, he had seemed almost pleased, as though it gave him the chance to try something else.

The floor under him was cold. Avon shifted position painfully; climbing onto the bunk shouldn't have been impossible, but somehow it didn't seem worth the effort. His mind was occupied with Blake: why had Travis taken him from their cell and what was he doing to Blake right now?

A sound at the door made Avon's head jerk up. Two mutoid guards appeared and gestured him forward. It would have been useless to resist; even before their capture he would have been hard pressed to handle one, let alone two. Silently, he acquiesced and followed them, despite his cynicism, totally unprepared for what he would be forced to watch.

* * *

Avon looked at the screen, wondering why Travis had brought him here. He could see Blake sitting dejectedly on a bunk, but nothing else of interest.

"If you think torturing Blake will convince me to reveal Liberator's secrets, you're mistaken."

Travis smiled contentedly. 'Nothing as crude as that. Observe."

Avon watched, and blinked as he saw himself appear in the cell. Obviously, a holographic projection. "That's not likely to fool Blake," he said.

"You don't think so? Blake's been without sleep for twenty-four hours now, and has been given drugs to heighten his suggestibility."

"Avon!" Blake stepped toward the figure, but stopped suddenly as it raised a hand with a small control box in it. "Don't come any further or I shall have to hurt you. I think," the projection continued in a near perfection of Avon's voice. "that I might enjoy that."

Blake took a step forward. "What the hell are you playing at, Avon?"

The projection touched a button on the control box, at the same instant as Travis. and Blake suddenly collapsed, writhing in agony on the floor. 'Avon! No!" he screamed.

Avon's gut twisted within him. He realized his fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands, and he deliberately relaxed them. "Charming," he observed sarcastically to Travis, "but what exactly is it supposed to achieve?"

"Perhaps I just enjoy it?" Travis suggested.

Avon waited, outwardly calm. He could hear his own voice asking Blake for names of underground contacts, and the hatred in Blake's voice as the rebel first cursed him and then screamed again as the pain hit him once more.

Avon's throat was dry, and his eyeballs itched for some unaccountable reason. _How can you believe this, Blake?_ he thought in desperation. In his heart he knew the answer all too easily; his sharp taunts, continual jibes, his aloofness, all too easily helped alienate Blake from him.

Travis gloated. "When I've finished conditioning Blake, he will associate you with pain and betrayal. Eventually, he will try to kill you. He'll want you dead."

Avon's eyes strayed involuntarily to the screen once more.

Blake's shivering form huddled in a corner, staring with fascinated horror at the hologram. "I never realized you hated mc so much," Blake said slowly. The hologram smiled. "Why don't we discuss the nature of the teleport?" it suggested.

Why don't you go screw Travis?" Blake retorted and was rewarded with another bout of agony for his effort.

Avon flinched as Blake cried out his name once more. It was a condemnation, and at the same time a plea for help.

He was aware of Travis watching him. "You're not totally immune, are you?" the Federation officer stated snidely

Avon ignored the comment.

"Of course," Travis mocked him. "you could always do what your noble leader suggested..." He let the comment trail off.

Avon smiled slightly. "You're not my type."

"Is _he_?" Travis responded. "Not that it matters, of course. When he's killed you, I shall tell him what's happened. Maybe I'll play him the tape of you standing here, getting all concerned about him. I'm afraid that the death of yet another of his followers at his own hands will finally drive him to insanity."

Avon shuddered. For Blake to believe that Avon would torture him for things that Avon already knew, suggested that his friend bad already been driven over the edge.

"And you think he'll then tell you whatever you want to know?"

"I'm sure he will. Perhaps you d like to see him?"

Travis gestured Avon towards a nearby door. Opening it, Avon was confronted by the unconscious body of his friend. The door slammed shut behind him and he flinched.

"Blake?" He stepped forward, kneeling at the big man's side. A tentative hand reached out. "Blake." The rebel jerked at the hesitant touch, immediately starting to shiver. Carefully, Avon pulled the larger man into his arms, trying to reassure him. "It's all right, Blake. It's me. Avon. I'm here with you now."

The shivering continued as Blake buried his face in his friend's chest. "What is happening? Why did you do it?"

Avon froze. Blake believed it! _He actually believes that I was the one hurting him_ , Avon thought. But what was even more painful was the realization that Blake seemed to accept it. "Blake, listen to me." Avon pulled slightly at the rebel's curly mane, damp with sweat, forcing his head up. "Look at me, Blake. I was not here. I did not hurt you. I... could not. Not like this." The last words were barely whispered. Eyes focused on Blake's, he could not miss the fear and mistrust barely under control

Blake was trying to pull back, away from the offered comfort. "Whatever happens, Blake, remember that it's not me. It may look like me, sound like me, but if it hurts you it's not me. It's a holographic projection, Blake. It's Travis. Understand?"

Blake's head was down, still struggling slightly to escape Avon's hold.

"Blake? What is it?" Avon tightened his grip and then he heard it. The faint tone he had heard before when Blake had collapsed. Somehow it was the cause of the rebel's pain. He tried to cover Blake's ears but to no avail. The rebel was struggling wildly now, desperately trying to escape Avon's hold. He broke free to stagger a few steps before falling to his knees with a moan of pain.

And again, Avon heard his own voice. "Blake. You must tell me."

"No!" Blake bent over, hands squeezing his head. "Avon, please don't. I trusted..." Blake whimpered as he slumped to the floor.

Avon could not stop himself. He cautiously approached the crumpled figure. "Blake. It's not me. You know I would never intentionally hurt you. It just sounds like me. Let... let me help you."

The rebel lay still so Avon dared to touch. He placed a light hand on Blake's shoulder. Blake's scream was horrible, the sound of a man driven far beyond his breaking point. It was harsh and raspy, dying down to a gasping sob. Blake curled into a tight ball. And Avon could hear faint laughter in the background, behind the voice. Travis's laughter.

Travis was timing his torture. Avon began to shake.

"Damn you, Travis. Stop it."

But, of course, he did not.

Avon stepped back, retreating to the far side of the room. Gradually, the tone eased and Blake fell into an exhausted sleep. Which left a very hopeless and tired computer tech alone with Travis's words echoing in his brain: "He will kill you."

Avon shivered.

* * *

Jerking to wakefulness, Avon searched the room warily. Something had disturbed his restless sleep. He focused on the room's other occupant, Blake. He was obviously in the grip of some nightmare. His tattered clothes were drenched in sweat, his curls plastered to his face. He moaned and mumbled with each twitch, his movements becoming more and more violent. Afraid he would injure himself Avon approached, kneeling quietly at his side. He touched gently but firmly, trying to reassure as he restrained the rebel.

Blake did not awake but, instead, felt the touch in his dream world. He stiffened, trying to pull away. But Avon only held him tighter, unaware that his grip was feeding Blake's horrifying nightmare. In Blake's tortured mind, Avon was his tormentor. When he refused to answer, the probing questions turned to scaring pain. One hand touched his cheek...

"No!" Blake screamed, striking out with all his formidable strength.

With stunning clarity Avon knew real fear. The force of the blow sent him reeling, his head throbbing in agony so great he almost blacked out. Struggling to his feet. he barely saw the burly rebel launch himself toward him. Certainly, he did not have time to avoid the charge. They both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, Blake on top, mindlessly pounding his fists into the unresisting comp tech's body.

Avon squirmed while trying to ward off the blows with his hands, hoping to unseat the larger man. As Avon began to lose consciousness, he dimly heard a voice calling his name. _Vila? What are you doing here?_

It sounded urgent but right now he did not care. He just wanted the pain to stop, wanted Blake to stop. As though from a distance, he saw himself hauled to his feet, leaning heavily against the little thief

"Come on, Avon. Let's go."

"You took your time, didn't you?"

"I like that! We had to knock out the shield generator before we could use the teleport." Vila muttered to himself." Some people are never satisfied."

A teleport bracelet was clamped onto Avon's wrist and he looked up gratefully, surprising a look of concern on Vila's features. _Now why should that surprise me?_ he wondered.

But the sight of the rebel leader chased all other concerns from his mind. Somehow they had managed to get a bracelet on him but now he was huddled in the corner, wide-awake and whimpering. The tone? Yes, it was there.

"Teleleport now!" he yelled, keying the bracelet, hoping it was not too late.

Cally was standing by the teleport, staring at him in horror. Then her eyes traveled to Blake and she gasped, staggering back.

"Cally, what is it?" Vila questioned nervously.

Trying to calm herself, she replied slowly. "Blake is in agony but I can't reach him. He's so afraid." Her pain-filled eyes lifted to Avon. "What happened?"

Avon felt his expression harden. "Travis happened. Blake's been conditioned and tortured."

"Blake was trying to kill Avon when I got there,"

Vila supplied.

"The interrogation was conducted with a voice synthesizer." Avon took a deep breath. "Blake believes I was the one asking the questions. And torturing him when he refused to answer. I think Travis used a signal activated implant. Whenever I touched Blake the tone signal increased."

Avon's pain was barely disguised. Cally could feel his anguish as well as Blake s. "Blake will be fine. Orac can tell us how to remove the implant."

Avon felt curiously thankful for the reassurance but one glance at Blake destroyed what little comfort he had received. The rebel was pressed tightly against the teleport wall. His gaze flicked back and forth between the figures.

Cally placed a hand on Avon's shoulder. "Let me try to reach him." She cautiously approached the cowering figure. "Blake. It's Cally." She tried telepathy but there was no response. "Blake, you know that I will not harm you. Let me stop the hurting." She knelt beside him, tentatively taking his hand. She could feel the tension in his body ease slightly as no pain accompanied her touch.

His grip tightened. and he cast a fearful, distrustful glance at the comp tech.

CalIy caught Avon's wince at the rebel's expression, backing away, unable to hide his disappointment at Blake's obvious rejection.

"Let me know if you require anything," Avon said. Cally's broadcasted pity was almost as disturbing as his own response. "I'll be in my cabin and then the flight deck."

As he left, Blake visibly relaxed. "Cally?"

"Yes, Blake." She smiled reassuringly.

"I'm tired."

"Me too," Vila piped up. "How's about a nip of soma and a nap, Cally?"

"Vila, Blake needs a medical check and rest, not a drink." Cally looked down in concern but Blake was regarding Vila in his old manner, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Most of his fear appeared to evaporate with Avon's departure.

"Come on, Blake. Let's have Orac take a look at you." Vila stepped to Blake's side, offering his hand.

Blake stared for a moment, then took it gratefully. offering a brief smile. In return, he was pulled to his feet as Cally relinquished his hand, following them to the medical center.

* * *

Three hours later, Cally met Avon on the flight deck. Sighing, this was not going to be easy she sat on the couch and waited for the comp tech to join her.

After a moment, he did. "Well?" His voice was tightly controlled, revealing none of the concern that had been so evident in the teleport area. His eyes were unreadable black pools.

"The implant is gone."

Avon relaxed slightly and inwardly Cally winced. "But some effects may remain with him for a time, Avon. That kind of pain does things to a person's mind. You know better than the rest of us what he went through, not only physically but emotionally. He will need caring and support from all of us."

"I am hardly the one to tell. Cally. He can not bear to see me let alone listen to me.

Face turned away from her, Cally studied his profile. Strong and arrogant, yet there was a softness in the delicacy of his lips and the dark luster of his eyes. A softness he rarely revealed in his actions, especially with Blake. Perhaps because it would mean too much to them both.

"I do not think his discomfort in your presence will last. He cares about you, trusts you. Of all of us it is your respect and affection that he craves. In the end, it will be to you that he will turn for comfort. He does need you, Avon. Even if he does not yet realize it."

"Perhaps," Avon murmured. But what he thought was quite the opposite. He would always be a reminder to Blake of what Travis had done. His presence would always cause Blake a moment's fear. And it was surprising how much that hurt; that Blake might never trust him as he apparently had before. All his hidden affection for the rebel leader had been dragged to the surface during their ordeal. And now, when he was willing to give Blake the friendship he had asked for, the rebel rejected him in fear.

A gentle hand interrupted his increasingly desperate thoughts, brushing his cheek softly, and he tensed.

"Avon? Are you all tight?"

Dully, he heard himself agree. "I am fine, Cally. Go on, you're tired. Get some sleep."

He stood up abruptly, walking away. When he glanced back, he was alone. As alone as he was before Blake invaded his life. Clenching a fist, he slammed it into his console. "Damn you, Travis, and damn you, Blake!" Caught up in his own anguish, he noticed Vila slipping away, but made no move to stop him.

* * *

He had heard it all. Avon needed Blake as much as the rebel needed Avon but how to convince Blake? Would he listen? Vila hurried away. Only one way to find out.

Nervously, he paused outside Blake's cabin. "Bad idea, Vila, old boy. Neither will thank you for interfering in their affairs," Vila muttered, trying to calm his jittery nerves. Avon's anger he had dealt with before but Blake s? He shivered unconsciously. Blake's rare flashes of fury were all the more frightening for their scarcity... and their underlying physical threat. For all Blake's gentle nature, he was a big man and used to being in control. Out of control...

Vila shook his head. "Stop it. Blake wouldn't hurt me, not him. He knows I'm harmless."

Convincing himself he lifted his hands to the lock, noting it hadn't been set. and requested entrance. No response.

Glancing around. he signaled again.

Still no answer.

Pressing a hand to the door, he pushed it open. He stepped into inky darkness, fear settling like a shroud around him. Where was Blake?

"Blake?" he questioned.

A soft moan was his only answer. Vila reached for the lights, unprepared for what he would find. A shocked gasp escaped his lips at the rebel's state.

Blake was curled up in a ball against the headboard of his bunk. Caught in some nightmare that Vila did not want to imagine, the rebel was covered in sweat, his nightclothes clinging to his soaked body. And he was shivering, whether from cold or fear Vila could not tell. He also could not help but react, stepping close, drawing the trembling man into his arms.

"You're safe, Blake, on Liberator."

"Avon?" The muffled voice was fearful.

"No, it's Vila. Avon's on the flight deck." Vila frowned. Blake was clearly awake but he did not seem to be able to escape whatever nightmare he had been experiencing.

"Avon and Travis..." Blake muttered. His grip on the smaller man tightened.

"You're safe now, Blake. On Liberator. Avon's safe too, we got you both away from Travis." Did Blake think Avon had been working with Travis? Vila rubbed his back soothingly. "Avon's worried about you."

Blake looked up at that, a wary expression in his eves. "I don't want to see him, Vila."

Vila looked away then glanced quickly into Blake's haunted eyes. "Maybe not but what if he needs to see you?" He watched as Blake pulled out of his arms.

"He doesn't really care, Vila. He despises me and my cause. Why should he care? I certainly don t."

Vila stared as Blake turned away. "Leave me alone, Vila. I need to rest."

With a light squeeze of the rebel's shoulder, Vila was gone, leaving Blake alone as he wished.

Blake bowed his head and tried not to remember the pain and fear, trying instead to remember the man he had always wanted to call friend.

* * *

Feeling anything but the calm he outwardly displayed, Avon slowly approached Blake's cabin. Requesting entrance, he was slightly surprised that Blake let him in. The room was in darkness, Blake's face hidden by shadow.

Avon sat on the edge of the bed, as far from the other man as possible. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Blake ? We need to talk."

The curly head lifted, shook slightly.

The tech resisted the impulse to reach out and touch, to physically reassure him. "Yes, Blake."

The rebel shifted, sitting up but keeping his face turned away. "I can't deal with you now, Avon."

The smaller man's face showed little expression but his voice was faint and husky. "Will you ever?"

"I don't know."

Avon felt the pain deep in his once ice-encrusted heart. Blake had always demanded that he give, and now, when he wanted to, Blake rejected him. He stiffened and stood, ready to leave but unable to resist one last glance at Blake. The face now turned up to his was frowning, puzzled, the expression a confused mixture of fear and a wary affection.

"I'm sorry."

Avon's eyes widened in surprise at the rebel's words. Blake apologizing! "For what? You have nothing to be sorry for."

The rebel's next words caused a dull pain deep in Avon's heart. "I didn't realize. Travis made you suffer too, having to watch, unable to help. I... believed it, believed his lies. I'm sorry, Avon."

Avon ached in sympathy with Blake, at the regret evident in his voice. But Avon flinched from the truth in Blake's words. The rebel's fear and distrust had hurt far worse than any blows. "I am notoriously thick-skinned. I am sure that I will survive it."

But his voice lacked it's usual sarcastic sting. Glancing down at his own boots, he failed to notice Blake lift his head, turning to face the comp tech.

"I am sorry, Avon. I know it wasn't you, up here." Blake tapped at his head. "But sometimes..."

Avon looked up. The tiny smile Blake offered was tentative at best but it soothed Avon's raw nerves. A faint smile touched his own lips in return. He looked into soft honey-colored eyes focused upon him in concern, still colored by fear. And could not resist any longer. He brought a hand up, laying it over the rebel's.

Blake flinched and fear flared brightly in his eyes but he continued to match Avon's gaze.

"Thank you," Avon whispered, letting his hand fall away.

Blake's smile was blinding, warming Avon with its intensity. Avon felt the light brush of Blake's fingers on his arm. "Stay with me, Avon. I'd rather not be alone right now. With you here, the... other doesn't seem quite so real anymore."

Avon raised his eyebrows in surprise but the rebel's bunk was large enough for two. And it was little enough to give in the face of what Blake had been through. "All right."

Releasing Blake's hand. Avon leaned back against the headboard, a pillow protecting his back. Blake got up and turned out the lights. He then settled down beside the tech and Avon allowed the closeness, closing his arm around the rebel's shoulders.

Blake tensed slightly in the dark, finally forcing himself to relax, head against the warmth of the comp tech's chest.

A gentle snoring convinced Avon that Blake was truly sleeping. And soon, he too was finally asleep.

* * *

Avon awoke to a feeling of being crushed. Blinking, it took a moment for his location to register. Blake's cabin. And Blake himself was sprawled against him, head and one arm upon his chest. No wonder he felt smothered. The burly rebel's face was upturned, a finger in his mouth. _You are such a child, Blake. Perhaps that is why I... I love you_. A damning admission, even to himself, but one that he could no longer avoid. His own reaction to the rebel made any excuse ludicrous. He loved Blake's strength, his gentleness, conviction and naivete combined. The sight of him now, tumbled against him so trustingly in sleep, made the blood pound through his veins. He felt the hardening in his groin, the throb of desire.

He breathed softly against Blake's cheek and the rebel twitched and woke. His eyes widened at Avon's close proximity and he pulled back slightly in confusion. "Avon?"

"Who else?" he muttered. If he gave himself to Blake now, there would be no retreating. A healthy, confident Blake would never let him escape. Assuming that Blake felt the same way.

"I--" Blake stopped in confusion, a moment of mistrust and fear. But Avon looked so gentle, waiting patiently. His fear of the other man, the residual influence of Travis's torture, was starting to fade. But he recognized the desire in Avon's eyes. The other Avon, he had needed too. Information.

Avon saw Blake's confusion, chose in his sudden need to ignore the fear. _I'll be good, Blake_ , he thought. _Very good. You'll forget what Travis did, what I did_.

One hand caressed Blake's shoulder, stroked the soft skin rising from beneath the shirt collar. _So smooth_ , he marveled, eyes following his hand's path, not noticing the tension in Blake's face, the widened eyes. Leaning down, he covered the larger body with his own. Eyes closed, he pressed hot lips to cold ones. Caught up in his body's sensations, he forced his way past unresponsive lips, hands tangling in curls, restraining. It was wonderful.

"No!"

Blake shoved hard and Avon released him, shocked at the horror in Blake's eyes. _The same_ , Avon realized, _the same way he looked at me in that cell_.

Avon looked at Blake, really looked. Blake was trembling, white-faced with fear and anger. And it was Avon's fault. Now how was he to reach Blake, explain to him?

"I thought," Avon paused. "I thought you wanted..."

He couldn't go on so he waited hoping Blake would say something. Or at least stop staring at him as if he were the enemy.

"Wanted what, Avon?" Blake still looked wary but some of the fear had drained and most of the anger.

Avon spoke so softly, Blake almost missed it. Did Avon mean it? And did he want love? Because Blake was afraid, of domination, of losing control, being controlled. Avon had never relinquished control easily before. but if they could share this... if he could only forget what had happened in that room.

 _In my mind only_ , Blake thought furiously. _It wasn't him!_ Blake stared at Avon's bowed head, patiently waiting. For what? Tentatively, Blake placed a hand against Avon's sculpted cheek, feeling the delicate warmth beneath the icy surface.

Avon gasped at the touch, pressing his face into the gentle caress.

Blake smiled at the unrestrained response. Perhaps control wasn't what either of them wanted.

Avon shivered as Blake continued the caress. The light was back in Blake's eyes, colored by newly recognized desire. Ever so carefully, Avon buried his fingers in unruly curls, watching them tangle possessively.

Pulling slightly, he brought their lips together in a kiss that seemed to go on forever. Awash in sensation, all he knew was the sweet flavor of Blake's mouth and the weight of his larger body crushing their groins together.

He squirmed as he broke the kiss, panting for breath. Blake turned eyes darkened with passion down on him. "I love you."

Avon tightened his grip on the big man's shoulders at the heartfelt admission, wishing he could reciprocate. But the words simply would not come. So he let his actions speak for him, kissing the rebel deeply as he slipped Blake's shirt from his shoulders.

Tongue exploring, he thrust deeply into Blake's mouth and the rebel moaned into the kiss, his hands fumbling at his companion's tunic. Avon could not help but smile at the unexpected eagerness. Pulling back, he shrugged out of his tunic, exposing himself to the rebel's gaze.

And gaze he did, Blake's eyes traveling down the lightly-furred chest to where the dark hair disappeared beneath black leather. His own chest was quite hairless. The sight, the feel, of Avon's silky hair over smooth skin was irresistible. Blake rubbed his cheek across his new found lover's chest.

Avon arched into the sensation, luxurious curls stroking his highly sensitive flesh. Face flushed with desire, Blake smiled, flicking his tongue against one stiffened nipple, then sucked hard, nipping it in departure.

Avon groaned, his cock becoming painfully erect within the confines of his trousers. "Blake, stop," he gasped, yanking the curly head away. The reproachful look he received would have been humorous if he was not so aroused.

Impatiently, he stood up, removing trousers and boots, watching for Blake to do the same. Nude, the rebel was at the same time more formidable yet more vulnerable. Avon admired the powerful curve of buttock and thigh, the muscles framing an achingly large cock. Yet, as the tech's gaze returned to his lover's face, he was struck by the innocence and vulnerability revealed there.

 _Too trusting by half, Blake. It will be the death of you_. He shivered at that frightening thought and drew the rebel to him. Enclosed in a powerful embrace, Avon relaxed, basking in the strength of Blake's love. Tender passion and kisses giving way to lust, the tech's hands cupped Blake's ass.

The pressure he exerted caused to rebel to thrust forward. Their cocks pressed together, slippery with precum, and reason fled before passion's onrush.

Blake's eyes were closed, his breathing harsh with excitement.

Unable to wait, Avon's hands came round and pushed hard against the broad chest. Passion-clouded eves flew wide in surprise as Blake tumbled onto his bed, his hold on the smaller man bringing Avon down on top. Avon clasped the larger hands, pulling them above the rebel's head as he rubbed his cheek against Blake's, inhaling his spicy scent.

"Avon, please." Blake gasped. "I need you. Love me."

Avon froze. Did Blake even realize what he was asking? What he was offering? Stroking his right hand down Blake's arm and along his torso. Avon stopped at the heavily corded thigh. Gently, he caressed the trembling muscles. "Blake," he demanded.

The rebel's eyes focused on him, bright with passionate desire.

Ever so gently, Avon pushed against an upthrust knee, parting Blake's legs, waiting for his answer.

Blake's smile was blinding.

"Yes," he whispered, spreading his legs even wider, demonstrating his trust, reaching up to trail a finger down Avon's cheek to his lips. A quick nip from the tech and Blake snatched it back, placing it in his own mouth.

Avon glanced away, unable to watch, imagining what it would feel like. Blake sucking him. Blake taking him in. With a shaky band, he reached toward the bed-stand.

At the rebel's questioning look, he spoke. "Do you have anything? Hand cream?"

Blake nodded toward the bathroom.

With a reassuring smile and a quick kiss to Blake's lips, Avon slipped out of bed, disappearing into the other room. A moment later, he was back at Blake's side, in bed, a tube of burn cream in hand. It would work better than hand cream, slicker.

Shivering at the thoughts that inspired, Avon sat down. "Hold out your hand." Blake did so and Avon squeezed a generous amount into the rebel's palm.

"Cover me," Avon said softly, gasping in pleasure as Blake did so, closing his fist tightly round Avon's throbbing cock. Slowly he worked it in, covering every centimeter, as the smaller man shivered with the tension of impending orgasm.

"Stop!" Avon grasped his hand firmly, meeting Blake's bemused stare. "Together. It should be together."

Blake searched his companion's dark eyes and then, seemingly satisfied, lay back, his arms loose at his sides, legs trustingly splayed.

Avon stared at the impressive display of masculinity before him. Blake was beautiful in his abandon, sweat glistening on the silken skin of his chest and belly, his cock stiffly swollen and begging for attention. A cherub's face with the body of a god.

 _Stop it. You are being foolish. He is just a man. But he is mine_ , a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Trembling with his efforts at restraint, not wanting to rush Blake and risk bringing the fear back into his eyes, Avon squeezed a smaller amount of the cream onto his fingers. Bending over, he licked at Blake's quivering belly, tongue probing a sensitive navel, as his fingers found the entrance to the rebel's body. Despite his previous enthusiasm, Blake tensed slightly as the fingers caressed.

"Relax, Roj." Avon spoke his first name without thinking. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I want to but..." Blake glanced away in frustration.

"Shush, I know. I'll teach you. And then you can do the same for me."

Transferring his lips, Avon brushed them against the rebel's erection. The reaction was electric. Blake thrust forward into Avon's hot mouth, then back, impaling himself on the tech's fingers. He groaned at the double onslaught, the sound filling Avon's ears.

The tech kept up the steady suction, Blake's penis swelling to the point of pain. But Avon never stopped moving his fingers, working at relaxing the rebel's tight muscle, marveling at the velvet softness clinging to his fingers, unwilling to let him go.

Finally, Blake was more than ready. Avon pulled off the thick cock with a kiss to the sensitive tip, smiling at the disappointed whimper from the big man. Carefully withdrawing his fingers too, he gathered the rebel's legs, lifting them against his shoulders, allowing him easier access to Blake's ass. He licked and nipped his way along each inner thigh until Blake was gasping and trembling, desperate for some sort of relief. Pausing to regain his breath and his already tenuous control, Avon placed his slippery cock at the entrance.

"Watch me, Blake," he hissed. Blake's eyes were wide with excitement shadowed by a hint of apprehension but he nodded.

Carefully, Avon pushed, feeling himself sink down into hot tightness. Blake's grip on his arms was bruising, his body rigid with tension, and Avon tried to hold still.

"Blake? All right?"

The rebel's eyes were squeezed shut, the words forced out between clenched teeth. "It hurts, Avon."

The rebel was too tense, unable to accept the loss of control.

Avon's heart sank and he moved as if to withdraw. Blake gasped loudly at the motion and he froze.

"No!"

Avon trembled. Just like with Travis. No matter what he did, he caused Blake pain. He brushed the tears from Blake's thick lashes, wincing as the rebel flinched at his touch. "Tell me what to do. Roj, I don't want to hurt you." Gently, he stroked the rebel's half-aroused organ.

"Yes," Blake gasped. And Avon could feel the muscles gripping him relax slightly at the extra stimulation. He gave a small thrust, continuing to massage Blake's penis. This time the big man pressed up, groaning loudly in a mix of pleasure and pain as Avon's cock brushed against his prostate.

Avon trembled. Blake was so tight, so hot. He held still, buried to the hilt in the body of his lover. His cock throbbed demandingly. Tightening his grip on the rebel's now rock-hard shaft, he brushed his thumb across the weeping slit.

"Yes, oh yes, Avon. So good...." Blake panted, his cock held firmly within Avon's talented hands, his prostate sending bolts of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust Avon made. The initial pain forgotten, he thrust upwards then back, trying to drive Avon deeper within.

Control abandoned, Avon thrust deeply, continuing to pump Blake's cock in time with his thrusts. This was what he needed, what they both needed.

Beneath him, Blake trembled then went perfectly still. Suddenly, the muscles milking the tech clenched and Blake screamed his name, arching upwards, his seed spouting over Avon's hands.

Avon shivered, feeling the approach of his own orgasm. One last thrust and he exploded. Blake's name, a whispered thanks as he collapsed against the rebel's heaving chest. Powerful arms cradled him as he rested, recovering, head against his lover's heart, feeling the reassuring rhythm. A faint smile creased his lips at the dampness between them and Blake felt it, pressing a kiss to the side of his companion's neck, before joining him in sleep.

* * *

Avon woke from an exhausted dose to a tickling sensation across his cheek. _Blake's curls_ , he smiled.

"My turn."

Avon tilted his head to look up. Blake's expression was gentle but passionate, excited desire tempered by love.

Avon yawned in exaggeration. Blake looked better, more relaxed. "Insatiable, are we?"

"So it would appear"

The rebel's lips brushed his and Avon reveled in the contact, opening to Blake's control. Blake tasted sweeter than wine, his tongue exploring, mapping out its territory. Large yet gentle hands caressed Avon's face, tracing over the delicate cheekbones, down across his neck.

Pulling back, the rebel left Avon breathless and panting with heady desire.

"Want you, Avon," Blake whispered breathlessly, leaning down to press kisses along the other man's neck and chest, hands delving lower. Avon squirmed beneath him, unbearably aroused by the sensations Blake was creating. How did he do it? One minute exhausted by passion, the next driving him to the edge. The rebel's hands held him firmly as a wet tongue flicked across a nipple.

Avon gasped, Blake's hand cupping his balls, caressing. One finger tracing his cock from base to tip, Avon bucked, wanting, needing more, causing a wicked glint to appear in Blake's eyes. Again the rebel touched tongue-tip to nipple, this time biting gently.

"Blake," Avon groaned.

"Yes, love?" The rebel's voice was sweetly innocent, ignoring what he had done was doing to his lover.

"Please." Avon spread his legs wide, letting Blake slip between them.

His face confessing every desire, Blake stroked generous hands along Avon's trembling thighs, the smaller man shivering at his touch.

A slender hand came up, threading through the rebel's silken curls, letting them slip through his fingers. He then reached for the discarded cream. Filling both hands, he closed them round the big man's erection, working the cream in completely. He felt a shiver of anticipation. Blake's cock in his ass, firm and hard, bringing them both to orgasm. A long-held fantasy fulfilled, Blake needing him, wanting him.

Distracted, he continued his massage until Blake pulled his hands away. The rebel's face was flushed and sweaty and his hands trembled as he gathered the smaller man's legs up, draping them up over his own thighs. "Avon?"

Avon stared at him in exasperation. "Just get on with it, Blake."

"Patience."

A gentle smile graced the rebel's lips as he placed his cock at the entrance to Avon's body. Then he pressed in.

Avon moaned at the unexpected pain. This form of sex was not new to him but Blake was larger than most and, even well-lubricated, difficult to contain. It had been so long... Was this what Blake had felt when he entered him? He closed his eyes, biting down the initial discomfort.

"Avon?" Blake brushed his lips against Avon's forehead. He shifted slightly and Avon gasped loudly, hands clenching in the sheets. "I'm hurting you." There was genuine distress in Blake voice. He had not thought... He moved as if to withdraw.

"No, Blake. Don't." Avon brought his own hand to his groin, encircling his cock, stroking it, losing his tension to the pleasure.

His eyes closed and he felt Blake's larger hand on his. "Let me."

Avon let his hand slip away to be replaced by Blake's firm grip. Amazingly, the rebel held his body still as he stroked, even bending to kiss the damp satiny tip of Avon's aching cock without completely withdrawing. Avon felt himself relax, opening fully to accept the rebel. All of him.

"Good?" Blake inquired as Avon squirmed slightly, trying to increase the stimulation.

"Very."

Tentatively Blake began to thrust and Avon moved to match him. "Harder, Blake. Let me feel you." Avon's voice was rough with passion and it ignited Blake's own.

He thrust carefully but deeply, instinctively knowing that this would bring them both the most pleasure. Avon's skin was slippery beneath him, his body so hot. The tech wrapped his legs tightly around the rebel's thick torso, rubbing the heel of his right foot into the crack of Blake's ass. The rebel groaned against his neck then tossed his head back, sweat splattering against Avon's face.

Licking his lips, Avon tasted Blake. Desperate for more, he pulled the rebel's head down for a bruising kiss. Blake thrust harder then jerked the smaller man's hips up, angling them sharply, then drove down, penetrating as deep as he could go. Avon thrashed beneath him, writhing against him, biting into his shoulder. One more powerful thrust and Blake came forcefully, Avon's name a choked off roar.

For a second, Avon admired the sight: Blake, head thrown back in passion, hair an untamed riot of curls, was beautiful in his release. The force of Blake's thrusts, the hand tightening rhythmically on his cock triggered Avon's orgasm and he spasmed beneath the rebel, gasping Blake's name, the convulsive tightening of his muscles drawing every drop from the exhausted rebel.

When reality returned to the tech, he found Blake sprawled beside him, once more the picture of innocence. Teasingly, Avon brushed a fingertip across the full, slightly bruised lips.

Blake's eyelids flickered and he pulled Avon over to lie in his arms. "Sleep, love," Blake mumbled.

Avon felt a small satisfied smile curve his lips. Blake would be all right. And he would make sure that he stayed that way. Sure the rebel was asleep, he lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to the slightly parted lips before settling back down to sleep.

 

_"There's a room where the light won't find you_

_Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_

_When they do I'll be right behind you."_

__

_\--Tears For Fears_

* * *

 


End file.
